Beloved
by PlasticWings
Summary: Lupin Sirius . PostOotP . “But why, Sirius, did it have to be such a high price?” Remus asked quietly. When he was refused an answer, he didn’t seem to mind. Much.


**Beloved**

Lupin + Sirius | Harry Potter | PG | Post-OotP 

Remus Lupin walked peacefully. It was a sunny day, but clouds were threatening to overtake the sky with their gray bleakness. But did he care? Not at all. The grass under his feet was perfect. Green, freshly cut, crunching the slightest under his worn muggle shoes. It was nearing late afternoon, and if the clouds didn't cover the sky, the night would darken the world anyway. 

In his arms he carried a bouquet of roses. White roses. Pale and fragile petals placed on the menacing green thorns. The entire world was like that, wasn't it? You couldn't get beauty without the pain and the suffering. The hurt was a price to pay for the pleasure. It was a life lesson to be learned. 

"But why, Sirius, did it have to be such a high price?" Remus asked quietly. When he was refused an answer, he didn't seem to mind. Much. 

Remus sighed and turned his head to the sky. The clouds were rolling in faster than he expected. It looks like they would win to rule the sky, even though the sun was dimming. The air was growing chilly. How fast the day changed. How fast the weather changed. How fast everything changed. Everything being life. 

"Ow! Bloody hell!" He backed away from the granite stone he had tripped upon. He muttered a few curses under his breath. Instantly he regretted it. He stood there, looking over the gravestone, solemn and quiet and regretful. He wondered whose body lay to rest beneath the perfectly trimmed grass. Whose life had come to an end? Who did they leave behind? 

It was none of his business. 

The werewolf shook his tired head and carried on. He was careful not to trip again. He didn't want to seem disrespectful. But he didn't care for the graves as much as the flowers. His first priority was getting the roses to their destination safely. Without bruises. Perfect. They had to be perfect. 

As he was walking down a long row of quiet graves, he had to hesitate. Side by side, stood two matching graves. They seemed happy. Homely. Exactly like the couple buried beneath. 

Remus stopped and bowed his head. "James. Lily," he said quietly. Engraved on one of the gravestones were 'Here lies James Potter, beloved Son, Husband, Friend, Father.' Next to it was Lily's, identical and pristine, 'Here lies Lilly Potter, beloved Daughter, Wife, Friend, Mother.' He bent over to set the roses down, but stopped. This wasn't right. 

He kept his roses, straightened his back, and kept walking. 

There, standing solitary, at the end of the row of headstones. Remus didn't even have to look at the words carved on it. He knew who lay there. Actually, he knew who should lie there. That was the worst thing, to have to come to an empty grave. He did it almost everyday. 

Remus knelt and lay the white roses down. When the man who was supposed to lie there had died, he died a wanted man. Yet, his name had faded from the muggle newspapers, so no one would mind putting up a grave for him. Especially not Remus. He hadn't the money to make it fancy or elaborate, and figured it was safer if it was plain. He wanted to make it beautiful, but he couldn't. 

Knowing that no one was lying beneath him, the man sank to his knees. He was defeated. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't be strong. He couldn't be strong alone. He needed someone to hold him up. He needed someone to fall back on. Even in all those years he lived alone, he had been strong. That was because he knew that in the jail cell of Azkaban, Sirius was alive. There had still been hope. Now there was nothing. 

Remus placed a hand on the cold, marble. He traced the name with a finger, knowing the grooves and etches by heart now. 

S-I-R-I-U-S-B-L-A-C-K. 

He did his best to stifle a sob. If someone came along and saw him there, they wouldn't hold it against him. A lot of people cried in a graveyard. But still, he would think Sirius would laugh if Remus had let himself cry. And though it wasn't true, and though it was selfish, Remus didn't think anyone had loved the person supposedly dead like he had. 

He had loved. He had really loved. 

And everyone else had a fond saying on their grave. Beloved Husband. Beloved Wife. Beloved Son, Daughter, Aunty, Uncle, Teacher, God-Knows-What-Else. But not Sirius's. It was like saying that no one loved him. No one held him dear. 

"But I did." Remus's few tears fell wet. "I loved you. You were my beloved." 

When he was refused an answer, he didn't seem to mind. 

Much. 

  
_(AN: Doesn't make too much sense, I'm afraid. Why would Lily and James be buried in a muggle graveyard? Don't know, so please, be gentle on that area. XD Oh, and this is **not supposed to have a plot**. It's a drabble-ish thing.)_


End file.
